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Moss Gropen
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Dorian Hargrove
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Ken Harrison
Patrick Henderson
Tam Hoang
Eve Kelly
Dryw Keltz
Eva Knott
Thomas Larson
Ken Leighton
Matthew Lickona
Mike Madriaga
Bill Manson
Scott Marks
Bob McPhail
Walter Mencken
Joseph O'Brien
Sheila Pell
Ian Pike
Matt Potter
H.G. Reza
Dave Rice
Elizabeth Salaam
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Julie Stalmer
DJ Stevens
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David Dodd
David Dodd
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In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
You know, you've probably also read "Portnoy's Complaint", and I can kind of understand how some women would be put off by it. I admit, I didn't care for it myself, I saw the protagonist as a glorified wussy. But I do see much relevance in your view of Roth, the writer, being a very sad man. Maybe Roth didn't deserve that misogyny rap, I never thought of it that way. Maybe a more sympathetic view of his work is warranted. History will sort that out, I guess.
— November 27, 2010 4:02 p.m.
In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
Willie should get to smoke all of the pot he wants, the man deserves it. So many great tunes from him. That old hippie is one romantic bastard :)
— November 27, 2010 3:51 p.m.
In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
Oh, man, I would SO suck at that. I will publicly confess here that I've written and published three pornographic stories in my past, the product of a dare by a friend. They will never be shared and no one will ever get that nom de plume out of me with any amount of torture. While I did receive much praise from the readership, there was one solid and inescapable complaint that was repeated by not only them, but by the editors as well. "Less plot, you don't need to develop the characters, concentrate on the sex." My pal T.B. was much more successful, in his early days he made a good chunk of change writing pornographic stories for several publications. One story in particular will forever make me laugh out loud. It was about a young lady with inflatable breasts. Can you imagine? This character would walk into a bar and buy herself a drink and proceed to make her breasts larger while the boys watched with their jaws on the floor. I will never match the awesome imagination it took to come up with that one. What was it that some Clint Eastwood character once said? "Man's got to know his limitations." Right on, Clint. I know about as much concerning romance as Margaret Thatcher knew about compassion. I'm not going to pretend otherwise. I cried yesterday when Willie Nelson was arrested again for smoking dope. All I know is, after I read about it I played his rendition of Hoagy Carmichael's "Stardust", and before I knew it my cheeks were wet. That's about all I know, Ms. Grant. Other people invent romance, I'm the dope with a tissue drying his eyes.
— November 27, 2010 3:26 p.m.
In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
I have several stories about them here. I think once I shared at least a couple. People are just people. There was one who I thought the world of, just a lovely human being. The story about him/her wasn't that he/she was a freak, but for me it was that one early afternoon we sand a duet in Spanish while I drank beer and he/she drank tequila. I bought. Don't know where he/she learned to play the guitar but it was awesome. People applauded. Damn straight they did, we were good together. No sex, no money, just a couple of people on a Tuesday afternoon, someone else's guitar, and a great memory I hope I never get too senile to forget. Never saw him/her again. This is what happens. I wouldn't care anything for writing about what he/she did on a Saturday night when the tourists came to town, but that duet was solid gold. Wish someone had invented digital cameras or cells phones back then, it's a recording I would have loved to share.
— November 27, 2010 3:07 p.m.
In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
Thank you, Ms. Grant :) Incidentally, about T.B? A great friend who TO THIS VERY DAY denies writing stringer stories for the Reader. He's one of the all-time neatest people I've had the pleasure to meet, eat with, drink with, and watch a mutual friend die with. Every stringer story he submits here, whether it's something he gleaned from the local fish-wrap or something he sees in his daily travels through the gritty streets of Downtown Tijuana, is entirely true, even when it seems as though we live on another planet down here. Sometimes I really dig it when he just writes about the street work being done, it's something that we all have to trip over while they have things all torn up. But the hookers down here all have medical cards, these are truths I've never taken issue with, I mean, every city has hookers, some hide them and some don't. Fortunately, they don't all have penises.
— November 27, 2010 2:15 p.m.
In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
Crys got it right, SP. Mexico recognizes dual citizenship, the U.S. doesn't. I wanted her born here because we live here and her mother is from here and I didn't ever want her to feel as though she owed the U.S. anything on my account. I got all of the kids Green Cards. They did most of their schooling here and all went to the last year or two of high school over there (The youngest that I speak of is a senior over there, it makes my head spin how fast time has flown by). Technically, I guess they could all automatically get U.S. citizenship. But I've always considered that to be something like getting a God. As a husband and a father, not only do I not have the right to assign that to them, I think I am obligated to ensure that they make up their own minds about it. My wife's son, who is my son because I was lucky enough to be able to raise him and he was unlucky enough to have never known his blood-father who did not live to see his son born, he's a U.S. Army veteran and now a citizen of the U.S; Mexico still recognizes his citizenship by birth. My wife's daughter who I also raised and am proud to call my own, is now married and still lives here in Baja and works in the U.S. We had one of our own, my wife and me, she's seventeen and three-quarters now and almost six feet tall. I want her to go to college and she wants to be a model. This is what happens. They all speak perfect English. I am very proud of them. When I met my wife down here, she worked for Fisher-Price Toys and spoke no English, while I had worked in aerospace and spoke no Spanish. My wife now works in Aerospace in the U.S. and I have worked in Baja running a grill since then. Sounds like irony, but all in all I think it's just a classic case of the old adage that some days you eat the bear and some days the bear eats you. When I ran that grill here? I think I learned more about what it means to be a Mexican than I ever learned doing anything else. I've been lucky enough to count a lot of accomplishments that went along with a paycheck, from the first launch of the Space Shuttle to stealth technology to building the bio-hazard units that sat behind the driver's seat of the very M1-A2 tanks that my son took a wrench to in Iraq. But I reckon I never smiled more at work than the third day the Mexican kid who worked as a doorman for the whore-house next to that grill here in Tijuana ordered up another bowl of chili beans, because where he was originally from in Oaxaca, they'd never had anything like 'em. I'm as proud of that as anything I've ever done in my life.
— November 27, 2010 12:52 p.m.
In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
Thank you, Russ, for your friendship and your intelligent comments. Profile pic is a shot taken by one T.B., it was a vain attempt to capture a copy-imperfect of the late and brilliant Frederick Exley. I love me some T.B. and love me some Exley, and I realize that we failed to portray his brilliance here. But I am none-the-less proud of the effort and proud of T.B. I matched a cigarette in the Nuevo Perico one afternoon and T.B. grabbed my camera. This is what happens :)
— November 27, 2010 3:16 a.m.
In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
I won't be back, hunnybunch. I gave up too much to live here in the first place, I don't need to swing at something that obviously uses this place for a source of income. Publications have every right in the world to exploit Tijuana for fame and for profit. The Reader isn't the first to do it. They won't be the last. When I make a couple of sawbucks writing about this place, I'll be just as guilty I reckon. But at the very least, I'll respect it, I'll love this Tijuana of mine. I owe that to my seventeen-year-old. I insisted that she be born here. I love her country and I love her city and I want to represent that positively. The Reader has made it very clear to me that they aren't interested in that. Better men that myself have told them to go screw themselves. I'm just another Tom Joad I guess. I can be that man's ghost somewhere else. Maybe I'll get lucky and that someplace else won't want for the easy droppings from someone else's stupid trainwreck. I can only promise you that it won't be my own.
— November 27, 2010 12:33 a.m.
How a Trip to Tijuana Changed My Heart
Craig's List, Tijuana, Singles Party, and "In-Love"... All you need to add is lice and transgendered prostitutes. And of course, two days in jail for a traffic infraction. Because what Tijuana story doesn't include two days in jail and a $1,000 dollar fine? I must be the luckiest man on Earth, and certainly the luckiest person in Mexico. In almost two decades here, I've never had lice, have gotten out of several infractions with a twenty-dollar bill tucked neatly underneath my identification, managed to raise three children without having to rely on a Craig's List Singles Party, and have been lucky enough to have never been accosted by wiener-gifted chicks in short skirts. And my advice, take it or leave it, is to avoid people with tattoos on their faces, I can't recall anything good coming from anyone that didn't have the good sense to politely decline the invitation to permanently write on a portion of their skin that cannot be easily covered up during a job interview. But you know, that's just me. Everyone else's mileage may vary.
— November 26, 2010 12:31 p.m.
Here's the Deal: Til-Two Club
That photograph of the Til-Two? Well. I took this a few years ago, the inside of 'Tropics' on Calle 6ta in Tijuana.
http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3370/3217558047_e6…
Scary stuff, Chad. That bar has also been around since around the end of WWII. Nostalgia, apparently, is a multi-cultural commitment.
— November 26, 2010 12:01 p.m.
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— Real stories from those braving the waves
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Tin Fork
— Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar
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Unforgettable
— Long-ago San Diego
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Ian Anderson
Thomas K. Arnold
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Don Bauder
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Joe Deegan
Barbarella Fokos
Leorah Gavidor
Dave Good
Marty Graham
Moss Gropen
Andrew Hamlin
Dorian Hargrove
Garrett Harris
Ken Harrison
Patrick Henderson
Tam Hoang
Eve Kelly
Dryw Keltz
Eva Knott
Thomas Larson
Ken Leighton
Matthew Lickona
Mike Madriaga
Bill Manson
Scott Marks
Bob McPhail
Walter Mencken
Joseph O'Brien
Sheila Pell
Ian Pike
Matt Potter
H.G. Reza
Dave Rice
Elizabeth Salaam
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Julie Stalmer
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In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
You know, you've probably also read "Portnoy's Complaint", and I can kind of understand how some women would be put off by it. I admit, I didn't care for it myself, I saw the protagonist as a glorified wussy. But I do see much relevance in your view of Roth, the writer, being a very sad man. Maybe Roth didn't deserve that misogyny rap, I never thought of it that way. Maybe a more sympathetic view of his work is warranted. History will sort that out, I guess.— November 27, 2010 4:02 p.m.
In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
Willie should get to smoke all of the pot he wants, the man deserves it. So many great tunes from him. That old hippie is one romantic bastard :)— November 27, 2010 3:51 p.m.
In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
Oh, man, I would SO suck at that. I will publicly confess here that I've written and published three pornographic stories in my past, the product of a dare by a friend. They will never be shared and no one will ever get that nom de plume out of me with any amount of torture. While I did receive much praise from the readership, there was one solid and inescapable complaint that was repeated by not only them, but by the editors as well. "Less plot, you don't need to develop the characters, concentrate on the sex." My pal T.B. was much more successful, in his early days he made a good chunk of change writing pornographic stories for several publications. One story in particular will forever make me laugh out loud. It was about a young lady with inflatable breasts. Can you imagine? This character would walk into a bar and buy herself a drink and proceed to make her breasts larger while the boys watched with their jaws on the floor. I will never match the awesome imagination it took to come up with that one. What was it that some Clint Eastwood character once said? "Man's got to know his limitations." Right on, Clint. I know about as much concerning romance as Margaret Thatcher knew about compassion. I'm not going to pretend otherwise. I cried yesterday when Willie Nelson was arrested again for smoking dope. All I know is, after I read about it I played his rendition of Hoagy Carmichael's "Stardust", and before I knew it my cheeks were wet. That's about all I know, Ms. Grant. Other people invent romance, I'm the dope with a tissue drying his eyes.— November 27, 2010 3:26 p.m.
In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
I have several stories about them here. I think once I shared at least a couple. People are just people. There was one who I thought the world of, just a lovely human being. The story about him/her wasn't that he/she was a freak, but for me it was that one early afternoon we sand a duet in Spanish while I drank beer and he/she drank tequila. I bought. Don't know where he/she learned to play the guitar but it was awesome. People applauded. Damn straight they did, we were good together. No sex, no money, just a couple of people on a Tuesday afternoon, someone else's guitar, and a great memory I hope I never get too senile to forget. Never saw him/her again. This is what happens. I wouldn't care anything for writing about what he/she did on a Saturday night when the tourists came to town, but that duet was solid gold. Wish someone had invented digital cameras or cells phones back then, it's a recording I would have loved to share.— November 27, 2010 3:07 p.m.
In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
Thank you, Ms. Grant :) Incidentally, about T.B? A great friend who TO THIS VERY DAY denies writing stringer stories for the Reader. He's one of the all-time neatest people I've had the pleasure to meet, eat with, drink with, and watch a mutual friend die with. Every stringer story he submits here, whether it's something he gleaned from the local fish-wrap or something he sees in his daily travels through the gritty streets of Downtown Tijuana, is entirely true, even when it seems as though we live on another planet down here. Sometimes I really dig it when he just writes about the street work being done, it's something that we all have to trip over while they have things all torn up. But the hookers down here all have medical cards, these are truths I've never taken issue with, I mean, every city has hookers, some hide them and some don't. Fortunately, they don't all have penises.— November 27, 2010 2:15 p.m.
In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
Crys got it right, SP. Mexico recognizes dual citizenship, the U.S. doesn't. I wanted her born here because we live here and her mother is from here and I didn't ever want her to feel as though she owed the U.S. anything on my account. I got all of the kids Green Cards. They did most of their schooling here and all went to the last year or two of high school over there (The youngest that I speak of is a senior over there, it makes my head spin how fast time has flown by). Technically, I guess they could all automatically get U.S. citizenship. But I've always considered that to be something like getting a God. As a husband and a father, not only do I not have the right to assign that to them, I think I am obligated to ensure that they make up their own minds about it. My wife's son, who is my son because I was lucky enough to be able to raise him and he was unlucky enough to have never known his blood-father who did not live to see his son born, he's a U.S. Army veteran and now a citizen of the U.S; Mexico still recognizes his citizenship by birth. My wife's daughter who I also raised and am proud to call my own, is now married and still lives here in Baja and works in the U.S. We had one of our own, my wife and me, she's seventeen and three-quarters now and almost six feet tall. I want her to go to college and she wants to be a model. This is what happens. They all speak perfect English. I am very proud of them. When I met my wife down here, she worked for Fisher-Price Toys and spoke no English, while I had worked in aerospace and spoke no Spanish. My wife now works in Aerospace in the U.S. and I have worked in Baja running a grill since then. Sounds like irony, but all in all I think it's just a classic case of the old adage that some days you eat the bear and some days the bear eats you. When I ran that grill here? I think I learned more about what it means to be a Mexican than I ever learned doing anything else. I've been lucky enough to count a lot of accomplishments that went along with a paycheck, from the first launch of the Space Shuttle to stealth technology to building the bio-hazard units that sat behind the driver's seat of the very M1-A2 tanks that my son took a wrench to in Iraq. But I reckon I never smiled more at work than the third day the Mexican kid who worked as a doorman for the whore-house next to that grill here in Tijuana ordered up another bowl of chili beans, because where he was originally from in Oaxaca, they'd never had anything like 'em. I'm as proud of that as anything I've ever done in my life.— November 27, 2010 12:52 p.m.
In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
Thank you, Russ, for your friendship and your intelligent comments. Profile pic is a shot taken by one T.B., it was a vain attempt to capture a copy-imperfect of the late and brilliant Frederick Exley. I love me some T.B. and love me some Exley, and I realize that we failed to portray his brilliance here. But I am none-the-less proud of the effort and proud of T.B. I matched a cigarette in the Nuevo Perico one afternoon and T.B. grabbed my camera. This is what happens :)— November 27, 2010 3:16 a.m.
In Case Of Continued Irritation, Discontinue Use
I won't be back, hunnybunch. I gave up too much to live here in the first place, I don't need to swing at something that obviously uses this place for a source of income. Publications have every right in the world to exploit Tijuana for fame and for profit. The Reader isn't the first to do it. They won't be the last. When I make a couple of sawbucks writing about this place, I'll be just as guilty I reckon. But at the very least, I'll respect it, I'll love this Tijuana of mine. I owe that to my seventeen-year-old. I insisted that she be born here. I love her country and I love her city and I want to represent that positively. The Reader has made it very clear to me that they aren't interested in that. Better men that myself have told them to go screw themselves. I'm just another Tom Joad I guess. I can be that man's ghost somewhere else. Maybe I'll get lucky and that someplace else won't want for the easy droppings from someone else's stupid trainwreck. I can only promise you that it won't be my own.— November 27, 2010 12:33 a.m.
How a Trip to Tijuana Changed My Heart
Craig's List, Tijuana, Singles Party, and "In-Love"... All you need to add is lice and transgendered prostitutes. And of course, two days in jail for a traffic infraction. Because what Tijuana story doesn't include two days in jail and a $1,000 dollar fine? I must be the luckiest man on Earth, and certainly the luckiest person in Mexico. In almost two decades here, I've never had lice, have gotten out of several infractions with a twenty-dollar bill tucked neatly underneath my identification, managed to raise three children without having to rely on a Craig's List Singles Party, and have been lucky enough to have never been accosted by wiener-gifted chicks in short skirts. And my advice, take it or leave it, is to avoid people with tattoos on their faces, I can't recall anything good coming from anyone that didn't have the good sense to politely decline the invitation to permanently write on a portion of their skin that cannot be easily covered up during a job interview. But you know, that's just me. Everyone else's mileage may vary.— November 26, 2010 12:31 p.m.
Here's the Deal: Til-Two Club
That photograph of the Til-Two? Well. I took this a few years ago, the inside of 'Tropics' on Calle 6ta in Tijuana. http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3370/3217558047_e6… Scary stuff, Chad. That bar has also been around since around the end of WWII. Nostalgia, apparently, is a multi-cultural commitment.— November 26, 2010 12:01 p.m.